


How Will They Know (If I Live to Tell)

by Stessa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Magic, Romance, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-28 06:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14443242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stessa/pseuds/Stessa
Summary: With the Evil Queen threatening to tear them apart, Regina is worried what lenghts she might go to - what secrets she might expose - on her way to doing so. There’s something she doesn’t want anyone to know, least of all Emma.Swanqueen endgame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story in three parts that takes place during 6A, starting around “Street Rats” with dialogue and references from especially “Dark Waters” and “Wish You Were Here”. There’s mentions of Robin Hood, and Hook is obviously present, just so everyone is warned beforehand. It is a Swanqueen story though! 
> 
> The title is from Madonna’s “Live to Tell”.

“What do you mean I’m not there? Am I dead? Or am I the figure under the _hood_?”

The words slip past Regina’s lips before she has any sense to stop them. She’s pretty sure that Emma can tell by the look on her face that she’s upset, even hurt at the insinuation that Regina would ever do such a thing to her – honestly, Regina had thought that they were beyond that. Perhaps not with Snow or David or anyone else who doesn’t matter anyway, but she and Emma – _she and Emma_ – they have come so far, much further than this inane idea that the blonde has alluded to. Regina knows this, and Emma does too, which is probably why she’s watching Regina with an almost embarrassed look in her eyes.

Which, _good_ , she should be embarrassed, because Regina honestly thought that she was done being presented as the bad guy by default. There can be plenty of reasons why Regina isn’t present in Emma’s vision – which she’s still mad at the other woman for hiding, _idiot_ – like Regina said; she could be dead or she could be otherwise occupied. It’s not like she follows Emma Swan around like some lovesick little puppy all the damn time. She sometimes has her own things to do, like a wicked sister and a baby niece, thank you very much. It’s not like she’s a rum-soaked pirate.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, but Regina gives her a look. “Don’t even start with me, Emma,” she says, and the hurt is evident in her voice, even to herself, as she lifts her hand into the air and transports herself to her vault.

——-

She’s only been stewing and reading up on tremors and visions for twenty minutes when Emma makes her appearance. Regina notices the familiar scuffle of boots and the characteristic scent of Emma’s magic, but she ignores the other woman in favour of leafing through the book in front of her, _determined_ to find something useful, to make sure that Emma knows that she could never be that figure, that she’ll always, always, even when she hates it, be on her side.

Emma’s words still cut deep, or perhaps it’s more the things that she didn’t say that cut, even now, when she’s trying to figure out this thing with Emma’s hands, and the thing with her own other half, and her own words hurt too, the words that Emma chose not to answer – but out of embarrassment or out of fear? Regina hates that she even has to contemplate this.

So Regina tries to pretend that it doesn’t bother her when Emma enters the vault, and she tries to pretend that she isn’t hurt that Emma would even consider the possibility of her being the figure under the hood. How many times does she have to prove her loyalty? How many times does she have to show the Charmings – especially their infuriating offspring – that she’s changed for good? She even cut herself in two, determined to nip evil in the butt once and for all, and still Emma thinks that… that Regina would ever, ever, do such a thing to her.

And the truth about Emma’s visions has her wringing her hands and contemplating murder. Not now, not after all this time, is it okay for some evil villain to get the better of Emma Swan in a fight. The blonde idiot has managed to stay alive through everything so far; barrelling straight into dangers with no sense of her own well-being, being sucked into portals and consumed of darkness. No, this simply will not do, not now, not after all these years, will Regina accept for someone to _kill_ Emma Swan.

So she ignores the cut of unspoken words and barrels straight ahead with renewed determination.

“Hi,” Emma finally offers after a good five minutes of Regina ignoring her, and Emma standing sluggishly against the cold stone wall of the vault.

It’s all easier if Regina ignores the earlier incident in the Charmings’ loft (even if its burns, burns, burns) and focuses on what’s really important, which is finding out how to help Emma. “I can’t seem to find anything about vision-induced tremors in any book,” she shakes her hands in frustration and runs them through her hair.Emma shrugs. “You will.”

Turning her eyes back to the book, Regina doesn’t feel so sure. “I’m afraid I won’t,” she runs a finger down the margin where she recognises both her own handwriting along her mother’s. “Maybe we should talk to Blue, or maybe we should,” she pauses, uncertain, “Maybe we should just find another way. We always find a way. This doesn’t mean you’re going to die.” She adds the last part as she looks at Emma, and she doesn’t know who she’s trying to convince most; herself or Emma. Emma might be frustratingly oblivious and prone to idiocy, but she’s Emma for goodness sakes, and Regina can’t just – she can’t just…

Emma bites her lip, legs tangled in front of her, crossed at the ankles. “But isn’t that how the stories of all saviours go, huh? Someone has to defeat them in the end, someone has to finally win.”

Regina marks her book and closes it in front of her. “No,” she says, confidently, “because you’re not just the saviour, are you?”

Pushing herself off the wall, Emma crosses the small distance between them and perches herself against the table. “Well if I’m not just the saviour, then who am I?” The question is asked so easily, slipping off her tongue and into the air between them, like it is something she’s been thinking a lot about lately, and perhaps it is. Regina knows how Archie’s sessions can be.

“How about Emma?” Regina suggests, brown eyes darting across the other woman’s face as she watches her.

Emma shrugs again, so frustratingly indifferent all the time. “You sound like Archie right now.”

Regina simply arches an eyebrow and opens her book again, finding her place on the page. She’s not about to guide Emma through her little identity-crisis, even if she can somehow understand where the other woman is coming from. She’d ridden herself of her evil half recently, and she kind of wants to be just Regina right now.

“I just,” Emma pauses and Regina looks up at her, unable to stop herself from giving the younger woman her attention when Emma so clearly needs it, “it seems like everyone expects all these things of me, y’know? Like, I’m the _saviour_ and I’m supposed to help people. All these people in this town probably wouldn’t even, I dunno, care about me if I wasn’t the saviour.”

Flashes of a similar conversation strike Regina; Emma buried into her side at the Jolly Roger, on their way to finding Henry, whispering small truths of worry and hate, truths about loathing the title and the expectations. Regina had kissed her then, buried herself in the other woman and understood exactly where she was coming from, and they’d been wrapped together on a small cot on the ship and never talked about it again. After, there’d been Neverland, Pan’s curse, New York and Zelena. It’s like they’d never quite gotten a possible moment to dwell into that and now it hardly has a point. Time has passed, and Emma has Hook now, and Regina she’s… she’s trying to protect her the best she can.

With a sigh, Regina closes her book once more and reaches a hand out to clasp it around Emma’s wrist. “I’d care about you,” she firmly says, just like she’s done before, and green eyes shoot up to look at her in surprise, “I’d go as far as to say that I care about you _despite_ of the fact that you’re a saviour. I don’t care much for that. I just care about you being Emma.”

Emma offers a small, tentative smile and her wrist is warm beneath Regina’s fingers. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who does,” she murmurs, and Regina wants to ask about the pirate and whatever he’s said now, but somehow the words get stuck in her throat.

“I think you’re so much more than just the saviour, Emma,” she reassures her, because for some reason she’s started to really loathe whenever Emma gets that look on her face; the look where she’s hurt, but doesn’t say it, doesn’t argue it, and Regina misses that – misses the fire that Emma used to carry with her wherever she went; misses the fire in which she’d fought tooth and nail for Henry; taken down the tree in Regina’s garden and been the first person in nearly three decades who stood up against her.

Now all Regina sees in the other woman is compliancy. She’s wearing something that might very well be out of her mother’s closet, and that godforsaken leather jacket almost never hangs on her back anymore, not since they returned from the Underworld. All she sees is Emma putting all of her faith in a guy who doesn’t deserve it, following his every whim and wish like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Honestly, Regina can’t even explain why she went on that inane rescue mission to begin with, or yet – she _can_. Because she did that for Emma.

Who is Emma doing all of this for? Sometimes it appears to Regina that she’s just doing what her parents want her to do, and it’s so unlike Emma, and Regina loathes it. Loathes this lesser version of Emma who stands in front of her now, watches her with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. It’s not her Emma, the Emma who-

“Do you regret it?” Emma whispers next, turns her wrist over and lets it slip through Regina’s hold, their fingers brushing instead.

Regina watches their skin against each other, the blunt nails at the end of Emma’s fingers. “Regret what?”

Emma licks her lips. “Separating yourself? I mean,” she pauses, eyebrows knit together as Regina looks up at her, “isn’t it kind of… weird? Do you miss her?”

“I don’t miss being constantly at war with myself,” she honestly replies as she tries not to notice the fact that their fingers are now interlocked and Emma has made no attempt to move hers. “She always tried to get me to do things that I don’t want to do anymore, and it was,” she searches for the right words, “ _exhausting_ to be on my toes all the time.”

Nodding, Emma says, “But she also had some good sides, yeah?”

Regina nods. It’s kind of hard for someone else to understand, she expects, but if anyone is to at least understand it a little bit, it is probably going to be Emma, because Emma had experienced the darkness. She hadn’t let it consume her, but she’d felt it. “I miss her… passion, I guess. I miss how she loves and hates so fiercely.”

Emma’s free hand comes up to rest against her cheek; warm and comfortable, and so very loving. “So do you. I don’t think that’s limited to only her.”

She can’t hide her smile, and Emma stands in silence next to her, as Regina bends her head to continue searching for a solution. She’ll be damned if she lets some figure under a hood get the better of Emma Swan.

——-

The Evil Queen wants to tear them apart, and really, it should come as no surprise to Regina, because if there’s anything her evil half knows, it’s how to strike where it hurts. And now Regina _herself_ is on the other end of that wrath; the wrath that threatens to take her family away from her because she knows she _can_.

And no matter what Snow and Charming say to assure her evil other half that it is never going to be possible, Regina is worried. The Evil Queen just tricked Regina into killing another – admittedly not innocent – person, but Regina did it, because it was Snow and Charming, and damnit if she doesn’t care about them now, too.

What has her life become?

She has worry chipping away at a knot in the pit of her stomach now, worry that the Evil Queen might just succeed in some way or other. That she might rip away the first semblance of family that Regina has in many years. Snow and Charming, insipid as they are, is family. And Henry, her son, who doesn’t deserve wedges and fairytale characters ripping apart his life, and Emma, her- God, Emma. _Emma_.

Regina has no idea what she will do if the Evil Queen manages to split their family into pieces; a family that finally, after years of fights, of _he’s my son, no he’s not he’s mine_ , of curses and witches, of darkness consumed and taken, of always working, always trying so hard —- if she takes it away, what will Regina have left?

That is why she wanted to get rid of her darker half to begin with; why it hadn’t needed much consideration and the serum in Emma’s hands, and Regina had done it. Hoping to finally rid herself of the parts of her that threatened, constantly, to betray her, to spill out, to give into anger and vengeance and forget that she really isn’t interested in crushing Snow White’s heart to dust between her fingers anymore. That all she wants is Henry, family dinners, Emma’s stupid idiocy and a peaceful – for once just _peaceful_ and _happy_ – life with her son and his other mother in Storybrooke.

But how foolish had she been to think that it can really be that easy. That life can hand her goodness for once, instead of just misery and loneliness. And instead of having the Evil Queen inside of her – where she might wreck havoc on Regina’s mind, but at least _only_ on Regina’s mind – she has now released her into the open, leaving everyone else to deal with her, too.

Emma seems busy with the one-handed pirate, and for some reason that annoys Regina more than it does Snow and Charming, so she’s left with the two of them, trying to goad Zelena onto their side, to show her sister that the Evil Queen isn’t the better choice between them. Oh, and to help free Archie, of course. Snow is very adamant about that.

Of course the Evil Queen finds it pathetic that Regina’s even there with the Charmings, and she regards Regina with that evil sneer and fire gleaming in her eyes.

“Oh look at you,” she says each word carefully, slipping closer in her high heels and skintight leather. Her cleavage dips dangerously low, and Regina raises an eyebrow. “What have you become, Regina? On the Charming team now. _Pathetic_ ,” she spits out the last word, lashes fluttering against her powdered skin.

Snow straightens her back and says, “Regina’s finally chosen to be on the right side, and I can promise you that we won’t let you ruin this family. We’ve fought too hard for it to watch it fall apart because of you.”

The Evil Queen snaps her head to the side and watches Snow carefully. “You think you can prevent this from happening?” She steps closer, reaches her hand out and lets it hang in front of Snow’s chest in a silent threat, “Regina throws me away like yesterday’s trash. I decide to ruin all of the things she cares most about.”

David takes a step closer, vainly attempting to protect his wife. “You can try all you want, but we don’t have secrets from each other, not anymore. Emma told us about her visions, and we’re working to fix that.”

“And look at us,” Snow adds with a set jaw, “we’re no less together after you tried to plant _that seed_ in our minds.”

She laughs; the Evil Queen laughs and flips the long tail on her jacket, blood red lips ending in a sneer as she stares down at Snow. “ _That_ ,” she whispers carefully, white teeth glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the windows in Zelena’s small farm house, “was just the beginning.”

Regina sighs. She’s just about done with this conversation now, because no matter what they say, her other half is not going to give in so easily. They got what they came for, Archie is safe, and Zelena is still pissed, so Regina will have to worry about that at another time. “If you don’t have anything more to add, I think we’ll be on our way.”

The Evil Queen snaps back to look at her. “Oh, I know things you don’t even want to _think_ about, dear Regina,” she whispers, her finger reaching out to stroke carefully across Regina’s set jaw. Regina shivers at the contact. “Don’t forget, you and I used to be just one until very recently.”

“What are you talking about?” Regina asks her. Her heart beats steadily against her ribcage, and her head is cradled in the Evil Queen’s hand. She stares at her with hard eyes.

The Evil Queen tuts. “Are you sure you want me to talk about that in front Snow White and Prince Charming?” The lilt in her voice suggests that Regina should probably be afraid of whatever the Queen knows, and she feels her throat tighten.

David steps forward, a hand pressed to the sword on his hip. “What?” he asks, “What is she talking about, Regina?”

Regina stares at her counterpart, eyes locked on the exact copies of her own, except these doesn’t hold the warmth she has grown accustomed to seeing when she looks in the mirror. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” she tells David and Snow without tearing her eyes away from the other woman.

The Evil Queen tilts her head and drops her hand. “Ah ah aah,” she shakes her finger dismissively, lips curled in a disappointed sneer. “I thought you guys didn’t keep secrets from each other anymore.” She steps closer, eyes gleaming. “Now, why would you lie to them then?” She places her finger on her chin and makes a thinking face.

Snow side-eyes them. “Regina…”

Regina narrows her eyes and flips her hair. “You’ve got nothing. She’s making things up.” She says the last part directed at Snow and Charming, but there is a steady beat inside of her chest and a feeling of dread creeping up her spine. How would she know? How _could_ she know? It’s a part of Regina that has nowhere near touched the evil side of her; a part she has buried away and tried to ignore, only let out when she’s her most fragile and content.

The Evil Queen laughs, “You _keep forgetting_ ,” she repeats, “that up until very recently you and I were _the same person_.” She steps back, throws her arms out and looks so out of place in Zelena’s small kitchen. “I have all your memories. I know _all_ your secrets.”

David turns his head slightly to look at Regina. “Don’t listen to her, she’s trying to mess with your head.”

Sighing, the Evil Queen fingers a piece of hideous knick-knack on the shelf next to her. “I know all your _feelings_ ,” she continues and picks up a porcelain monkey in front of her. She holds it daintily between her fingers and watches it carefully as she speaks. “I know who you have them for. What you think about late at night with your hand down your pants.”

Regina stiffens and tries not to notice the way Snow’s cheeks tinge red and David looks awkwardly towards the ground. She sets her jaw and knows, just knows, that the Queen is so very aware of what she’s doing and who she’s doing it in front of, and everything; everything with her is carefully planned out and executed, and she wills her mind away from blonde hair and fair skin and eyes that are so very, very green.

“Yes,” she croaks out, narrowing her eyes and keeping a cool demeanour, even if she is crumbling apart on the inside. The Queen might know, but if Snow and David find out —- _she’d rather bury herself_. “So I take care of my own needs. There’s nothing shameful about that, we all have them.” She arches an eyebrow and snarls, “At least I’m not _seducing Rumpelstiltskin._ ”

The Queen’s eyes narrow too, a mirror reflection of Regina herself. “Watch it,” she spats, stepping closer once more. “I can so easily let slip who their precious,” she spits out the words slowly, pronouncing each with the uttermost care, “reformed… Regina has _feelings_ for. Who she longs for, who her heart beats for.”

Holding out her hand, Regina makes a fireball and wishes – dreams – to throw it at her lesser half, but she knows it will be to no avail.

Snow’s hand comes to rest on her elbow and the faint touch of her once-enemy makes the fire fizzle out. “Regina, ignore her. We got what we came here for. Let’s just leave it and go find Emma.”

“Em-ma,” the Evil Queen whispers, blood red lips tasting the name as it slips across them. “Yes, why don’t you go find her. Your precious Em-ma.” She directs the last part at Regina with a pointed and perfectly raised eyebrow. “I’m sure Regina will just love that, won’t you?”

David offers her a look and says, “What do you mean?”

The Evil Queen sneers at him and whips up her hand. “I think I’ll let Regina explain that for you,” she finishes, and then she’s off in a cloud of purple, leaving behind a pair of very confused Charmings and a seething Regina.

——

Of course Snow White – being Snow White, of course, and thus an insufferable, insipid… Snow White – will not rest until she knows what the Evil Queen was talking about, and therefore she finds plenty of excuses to find Regina on her own. Even if they are in the middle of far more important things than Regina’s… she flinches at the thought… _feelings_.

“Regina, you can just tell us, you know,” she whispers as they stand in the kitchen in the loft, preparing sandwiches for everyone, while David is busy with Baby Neal, and Emma and Hook are on the couch, sharing whispers and looking all together too cosy for Regina’s stomach. “Is it because you’re still upset about losing Robin Hood?”

With a frown, Regina freezes near the sink. Robin Hood? Goodness, she hasn’t thought of him since before New York and portals, and she feels guilty for a second, because Robin was a good man and she cared so much for him, but he’s not- he could never be- no. “This is not about Robin Hood,” she whispers, her eyes meeting Snow’s ever concerned ones.

Snow stands impossibly close to her, eyes expressive and wide. “But Regina, she was being serious. I know the Evil Queen, she wasn’t just messing with you. And if she’s trying to tear us all apart, don’t you think we’re allowed to know what she’s talking about?” Snow watches her carefully, eyes never leaving Regina’s face, even if she is supposed to be slicing up tomatoes.

“Snow,” Regina firmly says, and she wishes so desperately that Snow White would just, for once, stop obsessing and meddling in things that she shouldn’t obsess over meddle in. Like Regina would _tell her a secret_. Obviously not, which her other half very well knows. “I’ll ask you to _please_ let it go. For once, just let it go.” She turns to the side again and wipes her hands in a dishtowel, waiting for Snow to finish with those damn tomatoes.

Snow turns to her tomatoes with an indignant huff. “Not if it concerns all of us, Regina, then no, I won’t let it go,” she firmly says, and of course that’s the moment that Emma decides to appear in the kitchen, as if Regina isn’t having enough troubles handling one Charming at the time.

“What concerns all of us?” Emma asks and picks up a slice of tomato from the cutting board, which one, makes Regina want to reprimand her for snacking before dinner, but two, really pleases her because Emma’s eating a vegetable. The blonde pops it into her mouth and studies Regina with careful eyes.

Regina says “Nothing,” at the same time as Snow says “Regina has _feelings_ for someone,” and Regina drops the dishtowel and turns to the fridge while Emma snacks on another piece of tomato.

“Woah, Mom, why would Regina’s,” she pauses, eyes turning to Regina once more, flickering slightly as the brunette determinedly stares into the fridge as a means of avoidance, “ _feelings_ concern any of us?”

Closing the door to the fridge, Regina turns to Emma with a stiff smile. “Thank you,” she says, before moving back to the cutting board to finish the sandwiches. A hungry teenager will be arriving soon, and she does not want to disappoint him.

Snow is not giving up though, as always, she wants to get on Regina’s nerves as much as she can. “But it’s about us, about this family, and if it’s something that can tear us apart, don’t you think we deserve to know?” Her voice turns higher and higher, and Regina feels herself grow more and more annoyed. Why again is it that she’s now considering this insipid woman her family? Oh, Henry. And Emma. Henry and Emma, she reminds herself.

Emma’s eyes flicker towards Regina’s once more, and Regina looks at her as she tries to understand the look in her eyes, the way that they carefully trail over Regina’s face and her jaw seems to set. There’s something there, something unreadable that Regina might have wanted to contemplate further if she was a person who entertained silly ideas and hopes. “I just don’t see how Regina’s love life can have anything to do with all of us,” Emma finally says as her eyes move towards the first sandwich Regina assembled and her teeth dig out to bite her lip.

“I don’t know,” Snow muses, finally putting the knife down, finished with the tomatoes, “The Evil Queen just said that,” she freezes in her movements, something clearly occurring to her, and she gasps and turns to Regina with surprised eyes, “ _No_ ,” she whispers, and Regina knows instantly that Snow knows, that she’s figured it out in that love-infested brain of hers, because of course she has, because of course none of her secrets are ever safe from Snow White. “No,” she repeats, and her head tilts to the side as her eyes lock onto Regina’s.

Confusion is written clearly on Emma’s face at this point. “What?” She demands to know, her eyes moving from her mother to Regina and then back to her mother again, “What am I missing here?”

Snow takes a tentative step closer to Regina, hand outreached to touch her. “Regina, why haven’t you said-”

And Regina grabs her hand and transports them upstairs in a purple fog, landing in what used to be Emma’s bedroom, and before Snow can say anything or even realise what has happened, Regina has closed the door with a flick of her hand and is leaning against the wall with stiff shoulders and dread creeping up her spine. She wishes that her life could hand her something more than just this; that life could be something other than disappointments and heartbreak and her own pathetic despair. Not even ridding herself of her evil half has changed the outcome, not that she had really believed it would be that easy.

“Regina!” Snow hisses loudly and sits down on the bed with a red face and judging eyes. Regina is uncertain whether she is upset about the revelation or the fact that she just magicked them upstairs.

“For the love of God,” Regina rasps and casts a glance towards the closed door, “please do lower your voice, Snow!”

Snow crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares up at Regina. “How long have you been in love with Emma?” is the first thing that pops out of her mouth; her face is unreadable, and Regina lets her continue, “Now that I know, why haven’t I seen it before? So many things make sense to me now, like New York and your dislike for Hook, and-”

Regina cuts her off, “I don’t dislike Hook,” she lies and taps her heel slightly against the wooden floor.

Snow gives her a look _like really_? and says, “Please, Emma told me what you said to her in the Underworld.”

She knows instantly what Snow is referring to, the part about Emma being too good for Hook, but Regina pretends that she doesn’t and flicks an invisible dust bunny off her blazer. “Alright, so I might have a slight dislike for the rum-soaked pirate, but he _tortured_ me,” she argues, even if the torture is the least of the problem.

Patting the spot next to her on the bed, Snow says, “Come sit,” and Regina follows orders without blinking and it feels like she’s about to walk straight into some speech about True Love or always finding each other or something else entirely hopeless like that, and why does it feel like Snow tries to mother Regina, even if she’s older than her? “Why haven’t you said anything?” Snow whispers quietly when they’re right next to each other.

Regina stares at an ugly throw pillow on the bed. “There’s nothing to say,” she answers, “I don’t believe it’s something all of you deserve to know.”

“Does Emma know?” Snow asks next, because of course she asks the golden question that Regina’s not even sure she knows the answer to. Has she told Emma? Certainly not. But that doesn’t mean that Emma doesn’t _know_.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” is her answer. “I mean, she has Hook and I had Robin Hood, and…” She’s not quite sure what her point is supposed to be, so she lets it hang in the air between them as she turns her head and looks at Snow beside her.

Snow’s brow furrows in such an Emma-like fashion that Regina can’t help but feel fondness for her. “What was that even with Robin Hood then? Did you have feelings for Emma when you were with him?”

Regina fidgets with the blanket beneath them, eyes trained on the triangular pattern as she muses it over. “I cared deeply for Robin,” she honestly says, “but in retrospect I believe that us being soulmates was more of a… friendship kind of thing.” She looks up again, meeting Snow’s eyes as she licks her lips, “I’ve had feelings for your daughter for a very long time, Snow.”

Snow’s smile fades in understanding and she reaches a hand over to gently clasp it with Regina’s. “I think,” she begins, her voice melodic and soft in the small space between them, “that it’s a shame that Emma doesn’t know that she has options.”

“Options?” Regina asks in confusion, brow furrowed as she looks at Snow, “What do you mean-?”

The other woman squeezes her hand comfortingly. “I just mean that Emma,” she pauses, “might want something different if she knew that she could have it.” She looks at Regina so expectingly, and Regina just stares at her, not sure if she’s reading this conversation correctly. She opens her mouth to say something, but Snow beats her to it, “ _You_ ,” she firmly says, “I’m talking about you as an option, Regina.”

Regina just blinks at her. _Did she just-?_ But how? She feels her palms grow sweaty. “Is that honestly your reaction to finding out that your once mortal enemy is in love with your daughter?” she hears herself ask in disbelief, “That it’s an _option_?”

Snow’s lips curl into a smile. “Call me romantic, but yes. I think Emma would love to know that she has options,” she offers.

She can’t help the feeling of hope that floats through her body at that; at the thought that _Snow_ wouldn’t hate her – doesn’t hate her – for the feelings that she has harboured for their True Love child (a child that she once wanted to kill), but kept hidden in a tightly locked jar inside of her. It doesn’t mean that it will ever _be anything_ , because Emma has Hook and their hollow house, and there’s currently a death-sentence hanging over Emma’s head because Regina still hasn’t figured out what to do about the tremors and the figure under the hood. But still, it’s a nice thought, a feverish dream, that she’d ever deserve Snow’s blessing and Emma’s love, but she hopes and dreams and tries to imagine a life where they hadn’t gone to the Underworld to bring back Hook and Regina had had the guts to face her feelings.

She doesn’t tell Snow about whispered truths in the hot night at sea, of bodies pressed together, of Emma’s kisses and wandering hands. She doesn’t say anything, because she’s never talked to anyone about that, and now is certainly not the time.

Regina sighs and says, “Snow, it’s very kind of you, but I don’t think anything good would come of telling Emma anything. What we have works for us and Henry, and,” she draws in a breath and straightens her back, “she’s got a lot to deal with now anyway. I wouldn’t want to burden her.”

“She wouldn’t see it as a burden,” Snow responds and she gives Regina’s hand another squeeze before she stands up from the bed and moves towards the door, “Just think about it,” she adds, the door closing with a soft thud behind her.

Regina stares out the window and thinks and thinks and thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina learns some things about her evil counterpart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains canon-compliant violence (magic) and a huge dislike for Hook – I figure you probably won’t mind either. 
> 
> I’m sorry that it took awhile to get this part out; I went to Gothenburg to visit an old friend from university in the weekend (I live in Denmark, so it was a bit of a trip by bus), and when I finally got back home, I had troubles with the keyboard to my iPad (I don’t own a computer), so I had to type everything by touch screen and it took so much longer than usually! It’s here now though, and my keyboard is being fixed, so hopefully next update will be quicker!

 

As it so often happens with Regina, she doesn’t really do much differently after her talk with Snow, because feelings have never really been something she’s excelled at and most often dealing with feelings – especially feelings for infuriating, idiotic blonde princesses – has had catastrophic outcomes.

So she pretty much pretends that Snow doesn’t know something that could ruin the entire fundament on which Regina has built her current life in Storybrooke, and she pretends that Snow isn’t sending her knowing, encouraging glances whenever they’re in the same room, and she pretends that the Queen’s current vow to tear away everything good in her life is not messing with her head. Instead she brings her books everywhere she goes, researches tremors and visions, tries to deal with Emma’s fate as the saviour in another way that’s not related to the Shears of Destiny – which Emma has trusted with Hook for some insipid reason that Regina really can’t wrap her head around (idiot, idiot, idiot) – and tries to avoid the Queen whenever it’s possible because if she’s not spending time with her, surely she can’t ruin her.

At least that’s what Regina tries to tell herself, and even Henry when he asks her why she’s spending so much time researching (not that he doesn’t appreciate it; he’s very clear about the fact that he does) instead of fighting the Queen like Snow and Charming are. Regina doesn’t like to tell her son that she’s terrified of losing his other mother – and goddamnit, she’s terrified for more reasons than one – but it seems like Henry might know anyway, because he sends her knowing glances from across the table at Granny’s. He’s drinking a milkshake and sending texts to Violet, and Regina is flipping pages and sipping coffee, and it’s just another day in Storybrooke.

Except it’s really not, because suddenly Henry puts his phone down and says, “Hook is moving into the house with Ma,” like it’s just another regular conversation topic they might engage in during an afternoon at Granny’s.

Regina looks up from her book and stares at her son, and it feels like that tiny part of her heart that still isn’t black is being pinned with a thousand needles. “What?” It’s out of her mouth before she even has a chance to stop herself, and she’s pretty sure that Henry can hear the dismay in her voice.

Henry does not look too pleased either. “Yeah,” he slurps his milkshake and furrows his brow in a completely Emma-like fashion. “I don’t know, I just thought that-“ He stops himself with a sigh, and Regina reaches her hand across the table to clasp his free one.

He’s her lille prince, her only redeeming quality and perhaps the only thing she has ever done right. She squeezes it tightly and tries to ignore the way her own heart seems to be breaking. Breaking because Emma is moving in with Hook, and Snow – how _dare_ she – gave her hope; not a lot, maybe just a little bit, but hope nonetheless that perhaps she did deserve a happy ending, and now this. This, this _madness_ that Regina really only thought was going to last for a few months because Hook was relentless in his pursuit and Emma just wanted to please her parents, but has now lasted for entirely too long. And it burns, it burns so deeply inside her scorched heart, because she keeps thinking of Emma’s teeth biting into her bottom lip as they crossed the seas, of Emma’s fingers digging into her back as Regina’s own fingers sought the heat; the desire to feel something and the same time forget that they were losing Henry, their son, the one thing that could _really_ break them both. She keeps thinking of the way Emma had breathed her name and the feeling it had left inside of her chest, a feeling she hadn’t felt for so long, maybe not ever, and it just _hurts_ , because. Because Emma is moving in with the pirate who was only supposed to be temporary.

She offers him a supportive smile. “You thought what, Henry?”

“I just thought that it would be us for a little while, you know?” He runs a tired hand down his face and diverts his eyes. “I just wanted it to be the three of us. Me and my moms, and we could just… be together for a while. Like a family.” He finally turns to look at her, and his cheeks are flushed a faint pink, because he just admitted something that not many teenagers want to admit. “Is that so wrong?”

Regina shakes her head and turns his hand over, brushing her fingers over his fingers; fingers that are so quickly becoming bigger and stronger than hers, and where did her little prince go? “ _No_ ,” she tells him firmly, and she doesn’t say that she has dreamed of the exact same thing as him, probably just a little differently. “It’s not wrong. And if you’re not comfortable with Hook moving in, you should tell Emma. I’m sure she’ll listen to you and wait awhile.” As she says this she knows that Emma would, because she cares more about Henry than anything else, but she also knows that her son would never ask his mother to sacrifice her happiness for his.

Henry shakes his head and retracts his hand from hers. “I could never ask her to do that,” he murmurs, but he gives her this look, like he knows that’s what she wants too, even if she’ll never say it to him. “She deserves this.”

Regina thinks that Emma deserves everything in this world, and she’d probably be able to get behind this idea of Hook moving into the house if it felt like it was really Emma making this decision. It just doesn’t feel like it is.

———

She tracks Emma down by the pier. It’s where they’ve had a lot of their past talks, sitting on one of the benches – sometimes on two, if they needed the physical space between them like they sometimes have – and staring out at the water as they speak. It’s somehow easier for them, being out there, and Regina enjoys the way that the wind blows her hair back.

Emma sits right next to her today. She’s flush against her, their arms – wrapped in layers of clothing to shield themselves from the cold – touching and Regina can see the way her cheeks are pink and her eyes focused on something on the horizon.

The only way to kill the Queen is if Regina dies too, that much they have learned with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Regina is surprisingly ready to accept this, even if Emma refuses to acknowledge the fact that this might be the only solution. She just needs to find a way out of Emma’s fate first, so she can be sure that Henry isn’t left alone. Even if it means that Captain Guyliner will be in the picture, too. Henry will just have to deal with that, and thankfully Regina herself won’t be around to see it.

“Emma,” she tries, and this is different, because it’s been awhile since it was just the two of them, alone, together, without anyone else around.

Emma shakes her head, but does not turn to look at her. “Don’t,” she says, and her voice is raspy and low, like she really does not have the emotional capacity to have this conversation right now. “I don’t want to talk about you dying, Regina, I refuse to let that happen.” She lifts a hand to brush a particularly annoying piece of blonde hair out of her face. “So if that’s the only reason you’re really researching my tremors and my visions, you can take your books and shove ‘em.”

What is it with Emma and her stubborn, idiotic Charming genes that Regina can’t grow entirely tired of? Sure, she can get annoyed at the infuriating blonde woman next to her, but it always holds a certain fondness. Something that Regina can’t pinpoint or even get mad about, even when Emma deducts something that is entirely off base. She shakes her head and lets out a long groan, which causes Emma to turn to her with questions in her eyes.

“What?” is what Emma says, and she seems tired, but at the same time just a lot more like Emma than she’s been in a long while.

Regina meets her eyes. “Congratulations,” she says, the word slipping past her lips in a low murmur, as they sit there on the pier, close together, “you have once again managed to come to the completely wrong conclusion, Emma.”

Narrowing her eyes, Emma says, “I don’t know what that means,” with a defeated sigh and eyes that are so, so tired. Regina takes her hand and holds it between her own gloved ones, relinquishing the touch, however faint, however brief.

“It means that I’m not researching the tremors or visions because I might not be here,” Regina says, and it’s not a lie, not really, because true, she might not be here if they can’t defeat the Queen otherwise, but the real reason is that she does just not want Emma to die because of a figure under a hood. She just will not accept that, Queen or no Queen.

Emma intertwines their fingers, loops her own through Regina’s and brushes the sliver of skin where her coat doesn’t quite reach her gloves. “Then I don’t understand,” she whispers, and her eyelashes flutter against her pale cheeks in a way that makes Regina want to pepper her face with small kisses and hold her close. “That has to be the only reason.”

Regina feels her breath hitch at Emma’s wandering hands, and she shakes her head. Fondly, she says, “Idiot,” and Emma’s eyes shoot up to meet hers, “of course that’s not the only reason. I don’t want you to die, you fool.”

The wind howls around them and Emma simply stares at her. “You don’t?”

Shaking her head, Regina shuffles even closer on the bench, ignoring the safety of distance and space. “Of course not,” she promises. She raises a hand to place it gently on Emma’s cheek, and perhaps she’s just imagining it, but she thinks she hears Emma’s breath hitch. “But you might have to accept that I cannot be saved from this. I chose to release the Queen,” Regina whispers, and their eyes are locked so tightly, their faces so close together, it feels like it’s just the two of them in this world, “I might have to die to defeat her. That’s my cross to bear.”

Emma immediately starts shaking her head, but Regina feels so sure about this. She’s got a lot to lose, but she also knows that everything will be taken care of if she’s not here anymore. The town, her sister, Henry… Emma. It will all be taken care of, and if she has to go to keep them safe, she’s strangely okay with that. She accepts it. It might even be nice to go out as a true hero, sacrifice and everything. At least that way Henry can remember her as she wants him to: Like Regina.

“No,” Emma stubbornly mutters, and her green eyes are wet with tears, “I won’t accept that.”

Regina’s heart is thumping madly inside her chest, and she wants desperately; wants to hold Emma, to make everything go away, to transport them in a fog of purple to somewhere else and just be. Regina and Emma. That’s what she’s wanted for so long, she can’t even recall how she felt at a time where she didn’t want that. “Emma,” she gently whispers, and her hand is still cupping the blonde’s cheek carefully.

Emma repeats, “ _No_ ,” and her voice is firm, determined, “we’re both going to live, Regina.” She places her hand on top of Regina’s and they stare at each other, so close together, yet so far apart, and Regina wishes that she was brave enough. Brave enough to say to Emma _don’t move in with the pirate_ and that Emma was brave enough to say _give me a reason not to_ , and then they would kiss right now, on the bench on the windy pier, and everything would fall into place. They’d defeat the Queen and the visions and tremors and the figure under the hood, and they’d just be. _Regina and Emma_.

But Regina knows that that’s not going to happen. She’s not brave enough, she never has been, and she does not deserve the love of Emma Swan. She doesn’t deserve a happy ending, no matter how many times Henry tells her that she does. She doesn’t deserve to be content and happy, perhaps she just deserves to sacrifice herself and go out like that. She knows Henry will be fine with Emma; they’ve done such a good job together. She just has to make sure that Emma will be there, before she goes.

Now it’s Emma’s turn to whisper her name. “ _Regina_.”

And Regina opens her mouth to say something. Maybe _Emma_ or _yes_ or something else entirely, but nothing comes across her lips, not even a little sound. She just stares at Emma’s wide, green eyes, and that’s how the Queen finds them when she appears in front of them in eight inch boots and a dark blue dress with a plunging neckline.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls and stalks closer to them, “if it isn’t the star-crossed lovers in a tight embrace.” She says the last part with something akin to amusement in her eyes, and Regina feels Emma pull away from her. The Queen has mostly been leaving Emma alone since she arrived in Storybrooke, so Regina figures it’s about time that she gets to it.

It’s just really not that nice when Regina _knows_ what the Queen knows and that she can very easily take everything and turn it upside down.

Emma narrows her eyes and glares angrily at the Queen. “Whatever you want to say now, just say it and leave us alone,” she says tiredly.

The Queen raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, what would be the fun in that?” she questions. She places a hand on her hip and observes them, lips pursed and elaborate hairdo withholding the strong blows of wind. “Regina dear,” she begins suddenly, eyes moving from one woman to the other, “it’s been awhile since I saw you. It almost seems like you have given up trying to defeat me. You really have become week. I mean, just look at you. You’re wearing a sensible pantsuit.”

Regina awkwardly smoothes down her black slacks and offers the Queen a glare. “I just don’t have the time for your childish mind-games is all,” she retorts and the Queen smirks back in amusement.

Emma side-eyes Regina, “Mind-games? What kind of mind-games? What’s going on?”

Regina says, “Nothing,” at the same time as the Queen says, “I’m glad you ask, Saviour,” and their glares intensify while Emma bites her lip and shuffles awkwardly off the bench.

“Perhaps you should leave, Emma,” Regina suggests as she slips off the bench as well, taking a step away from Emma and towards the Queen. She realises that the Queen must have sought her out for something, and she’d really rather that Emma wasn’t present for it, since the Queen’s latest threat seems to be messing specifically with Regina’s relationship with Emma. It appears that she thinks that is where it is going to hurt the most. Regina hates that.

“Look Regina, if she’s trying to mess with you, do you really think you should be alone with-“ Emma begins, but Regina waves a hand dismissively at her.

The Queen smirks, “How chivalrous.”

Emma turns to the Queen then, her eyes going from soft as they were looking at Regina, to narrowed slits as she glares angrily at the Evil Queen. “Look Queenie, whatever your deal is, just cut it out, OK? No matter what games you try to play, Regina’s not gonna fall for them ‘cus she’s got us now, yeah? Something you didn’t have back when you became all evil and shit, but this Regina does, and we’re not gonna let you fuck her over.”

The Evil Queen’s eyes gleam in amusement as she turns to Regina with a look that says _really, are you hearing this?_ while Regina straightens her back and tries to ignore the way her heart seems to thud just a little bit harder at Emma’s words. She will not be fooled into believing that Emma’s words hold a special meaning, she will not, but it is so difficult when all she hears inside of her mind is _kiss me, Regina_ and _I just want to hold you, Regina_ and all the reasons not to hope seem to fade away even if she knows better.

Regina sighs, “Emma, it’s really rather easier if you leave and let me handle this.”

Emma steps closer to her again, eyes alight with determination and hands curling at her sides. “If you think I’m going to leave you here to let you sacrifice yourself, you’re really dense, Regina.”

As Regina stares at Emma with an open mouth, the Queen barks out a deep laugh. “Oh how wonderful,” she giddily claps her hands together, watching them with vague excitement, “the Saviour protecting the fallen Queen. A love-story for the ages.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Regina hisses and takes a step toward her, away from Emma, away from the look on her face that she’s afraid to see incase it might have changed from confusion to realisation. She can’t realise, this Regina knows. “Just say your piece and get back to hooking up with Rumpelstiltskin in the back of his pawnshop.”

The Evil Queen tuts, clearly amused by the turn of events, and Regina knows this, because she would have been amused too back in the days, amused to watch other people’s discomfort. “I’m getting quite bored with the Dark One,” she announces and takes a step to the side, high heels clicking agains the asphalted pier, “so I’m here to continue my fun. _Tormenting_ my lesser half. I see Snow White and her _insipid_ Prince Charming didn’t write you off after my little revelation?” She places a hand on her hip and stalks closer, looking down at Regina from her heels through black-rimmed eyes. “What a pity.” She whispers the last part slowly, tasting each words as it falls across her dark purple lips.

Emma tips slightly to the side. “Uuh, what’s with my mom and dad?”

Regina ignores her, too caught up in the staring match she’s having with her counterpart, similar eyes locked together fiercely, relentless, none of them faltering. “Like Snow said,” she tells the Queen, “we’re stronger than that. We can sort through it.”

“Hm,” the Queen murmurs and she tilts her head carefully to the side, studying Regina as she contemplates her next move. They both stand perfectly still, not a sound to be heard among them, only the sound of the wind on the pier, the small waves slushing against the side of the boats tied there. “Well,” she begins again, an indifferent look on her face, her mask perfectly in place to shield her thoughts, “just because Snow White and her righteousness is able to forgive _everything_ , doesn’t mean her offspring is…” she turns her head quickly to the side, eyes narrowing in on Emma and Regina feels something tight settle in her throat, “Perhaps I should just tell _her_ ,” she suggest and she steps over, placing a cold hand with long, dark nails on Emma’s cheek.

Something seethes inside Regina; something takes hold of her feelings and her sensible thoughts and pulls, pulls it away from the grasp of her control, pulls so quickly that she can’t reign it back in. It pulls, and her hand is flinging a blow of magic the Queen’s way, catapulting her backwards and into the air. “ _Don’t touch her,_ ” Regina snarls, and the Queen is airborne for a second, before she lands on the ground some feet away from them.

Emma’s hands tremble where they hang down her sides.

The Queen is on her feet immediately, a dangerous smirk overtaking her features as she takes a step closer. Regina knows it’s coming, the blow, but she’s still not prepared for it, and the Evil Queen sends her flying backwards and she lands against a parked car, her back colliding with a handle and she groans as she tries to get up.

“Regina!” Emma exclaims, and her hands are still trembling – Regina can see that even from the distance – so they can’t count on them both to make the Queen retreat and leave them alone this time. Regina’s on her own, but she has troubles getting off the ground and Emma takes a few steps towards her, trembling hand reaching out. “Regina-“

“Ah, ah, aaah,” the Evil Queen tuts, casually flicking her hand and freezing Emma to the spot; her body is still, but her eyes and mouth can move and she groans harshly. “Regina, you really do need to control your pet,” she continues, and Regina pulls herself off the car, covering the small distance between them in a slight jog.

She tries using magic to free Emma, but she knows it’s futile, because that is not how magic works. “ _Release her,_ ” she sighs, eyes glaring, but posture straight. She really wishes she hadn’t had the need to track Emma down on the pier, because maybe this entire encounter could have been avoided.

The Queen indulges her briefly; she releases Emma for a second or two, in which the blonde woman manages to reach her hand further towards Regina, before she is frozen again. The Evil Queen laughs and says, “I know I can’t hurt you, Regina,” she muses and her black eyes are shining mirthlessly, “not unless I want to hurt myself. So I got to thinking,” she pauses, undoubtedly for dramatic effect, “who can I hurt to upset Regina the most?”

Emma grumbles, “You leave Henry out of this!” and it’s honestly Regina’s first thought as well, briefly – that the Queen will harm Henry – but then she realises that of course the Queen won’t because Henry is her son too; she was part of his life, of raising him, up until Regina made the choice to separate them. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s that all of her, absolutely _all of her_ , loves Henry deeply and has since she first held him in her arms. So no, the Queen will not harm Henry, but she will… harm Emma.

Regina realises this with suddenly clarity and a sense of dread creeps up her spine as panic overtakes her. _Of course she will harm Emma_. There’s no doubt when Regina sees the look in her eyes, the snarl on her face. She will harm Emma and she will love every second of it, if only because she knows how much it will pain Regina.

The Queen arches an eyebrow and looks at Emma with dismay. “Silly Saviour,” she tsk’s, “of course I won’t hurt the boy. _You_ on the other hand…” She trails off and Emma frowns, green eyes turning to watch Regina curiously. Regina wants to say something, explain it somehow, but she’s rooted to the spot, unable to reply to Emma, and so when the Queen flicks her arm out and moves a limp Emma in the air, Regina can’t do anything to stop it. The Queen dangles Emma just off the pier, some good feet above the water and she has her invisible grip around Emma’s throat, choking the blonde woman as Emma wriggles her legs and pulls at the invisible hands around her neck.

“Stop it this _instant_ ,” Regina demands as she finally finds herself able to move; she jogs across the pier until she’s near the edge and has a clear view of the darkening waters below Emma. She knows she can’t retaliate; one wrong move and the Queen loosens her grip on Emma and drops her into the deep, cold sea. “Just let her go,” she turns to her counterpart, almost pleadingly and for once she doesn’t care. Her other half knows exactly what this is doing to her, so there’s no point in pretending otherwise. “This isn’t what you want. Quite the contrary! Isn’t it Snow White, hm? Snow White’s hearts in your hands?”

Emma manages to grumble, “ _Regina_!” but Regina doesn’t care; she tolerates Snow White now, but she would sacrifice her for Emma any day, even if she knew Emma would never forgive her for it.

The Queen loosens her grip on Emma’s throat, “Be quiet,” she demands, and Regina watches as Emma pummels towards the water for ten seconds, arms flailing and eyes wide, before the Queen regains her hold on her, stilling her in the air, once more with an invisible choke around her neck. “Talk more,” she tells Regina instead, turning her head to look at her, thus ignoring Emma’s angry clawing at nothing.

Regina takes this opportunity for what it is and says, “Drop this silly game of yours, hm? You know I’ll sacrifice myself for the people I love, so you might as well realise that that means that I _won’t_ let you hurt either Henry or,” she pauses and casts a glance towards the blonde woman suspended in the air, “ _Emma_.”

Stopping her vain attempt at fighting the Queen, Emma relents her struggles and hangs still in the air. She just watches Regina, curiously, through hooded eyes and with a frown edged across her pale face. Regina takes a step closer to the edge, letting her booted foot hover over the side as she watches the Queen watch her. It’d be so easy, just so easy, to jump off this edge and into the deep waters and just _let go_. Let go as a Regina, as a hero who sacrificed herself for the woman she loved. _So, so easy_. She arches an eyebrow, daring the Queen.

“Alright, alright,” the Queen finally breathes, an unreadable expression marring her face. She flings Emma off to the side, carelessly throwing her onto the asphalt and dropping her hands to her sides, finally releasing her hold on her. “I was getting bored anyway,” she finishes as she disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

Emma sits on the ground, legs tucked beneath her and runs her fingers over her pale neck – bruises invisible – just as Regina drops to her side. “Emma, are you OK?” she breathes, hands reaching out to touch the other woman on their own accord; trailing over her hair, her arms, the rosy cheeks. Eyes searching out every inch of her just to make sure that no harm was done, because if there was, if just a single hair was out of place, if anything was wrong, Regina would go right over to that edge and jump into the sea, because _she cannot_ … She cannot… It’s Emma for goodness sakes, Emma, her Emma who mustn’t be harmed. Regina clenches her hand to Emma’s, relieved beyond measure.

“Regina, what the hell?!” Emma finally manages, her green eyes shooting up to meet Regina’s own. “Why would she come after me like that if she’s trying to _hurt you?_ ”

Regina pulls back, “I don’t know, Em-ma,” she wants to get up, to dust off her pants and walk away, but at the same time she really cannot get herself to stop running her hand down Emma’s arms. _Just making sure, just checking. She’s okay_. “I mean, who knows what that evil minx is thinking about.”

Emma’s brow is furrowed when she says, “I was under the impression that _you_ did…” She licks her bottom lip, and Regina finds her eyes fixated on the pink tongue is it runs over the chapped skin.

Ignoring Emma’s attempt to goad something out of her, Regina brushes a piece of Emma’s blonde hair out of her eyes. “Never mind why she did it. The important thing is that you’re safe now.”

Eyeing her quizzically, Emma seems to accept that answer, even though she knows it’s not the truth – and damn Emma Swan for knowing her _so well_ – and she shrugs. “You weren’t really gonna jump into that water, were you?”

Regina busies herself by getting off the ground slowly, dusting off her slacks and adjusting her coat, and she sees out of the corner of her eyes that Emma does the same. She doesn’t want to answer, because of course she would have, and maybe Emma knows this deep inside as well, even if she thinks she doesn’t. She fixes her hair and clears her throat before digging into her pocket for her cell phone.

“Regina,” Emma warns her, and finally the brunette meets her eyes. The other woman is watching her with a curious expression on her face, green eyes shimmery, and a slight frown on her pink lips. It almost seems like she’s… touched somehow. And Regina can’t have this, she can’t have this dynamic between, so she straightens her back.

“Of course not,” she says, and all rights itself in the world again. “Now come on, we should go find your parents,” she adds, before grabbing hold of Emma’s arm and transporting them to the loft.

———

The Evil Queen really does change her tactics after their encounter at the pier, and Regina is not sure how she feels about that. Sure, it’s a relief that the Queen no longer seems to find any joy in spilling Regina’s secrets, but she cant’t help but feel slightly responsible for the sleeping curse that her counterpart casts on Snow and Charming’s _shared heart_. She would have said and done basically anything to save Emma at the pier, but perhaps she shouldn’t have reminded the Queen of her desire to kill Snow White.

So now either Snow or Charming has to be asleep at all times, and they put on brave faces, but Regina can tell that it’s wearing them down. On top of a sleeping curse they have an attention-seeking toddler and a grown-up daughter with tremors and visions.

Regina tries to stay mostly away from Emma, because the other woman has been acting strange since the incident at the pier, so she’s not there when Hook and Emma find the sword in Gold’s shop, but instead stuck at Belle’s side throughout a sped-up pregnancy and a birth whereafter Belle sends her child away with the Blue Fairy. It’s not what Regina would have done in this case, but the good people of the Enchanted Forest have always been too quick to put their faiths in the coloured bugs. She says nothing and supports Belle instead, because that is what heroes do.

When they find out that the sword – the sword which is the sword from Emma’s vision; the sword that eventually kills her, which is why Regina thinks they should destroy it immediately – can hurt the Queen without hurting Regina, she’s momentarily happy. She wishes she could celebrate with either Emma or Snow, but the first is busy playing house with the pirate and the latter is caught in a never ending sleeping curse, so Regina ducks into her books again.

Now, on top of researching visions and tremors, she looks for a specific sword with a red stone.

The Queen is laying low, and it feels almost too calm, like they should be waiting for an attack of some sort. What is she planning? Is she just out there, living her happily ever after? Regina tries to recall what her plans were back then, what she planned on doing with her life once she defeated Snow White and destroyed her happiness; _if it wasn’t the last thing she did_ , and she actually lived afterwards. She can’t remember though, she can’t recall what she planned on doing with her life, how she planned on spending her time. She can’t recall anything before Henry and Emma and _I just want my family and a peaceful life in Storybrooke_.

The next problem comes as sort of a surprise for Regina who was under the impression that the one-handed pirate had changed his ways. That’s what she would do if she had Emma anyway – goodness, that’s what she’d already _done_ even without having Emma, but just wanting to make her happy regardless – but of course Captain Rum proves himself not worthy of Emma’s love once more, which is almost expected.

She gets a text from Henry early one morning, because Emma has left for another emergency with David, and Hook is probably off brooding somewhere or applying severe amounts of eyeliner, and apparently a trail of _purple magic_ (“It’s your magic Mom, don’t you think I know my own mother’s magic by now?”) has led him to the shed outside where he finds the _Shears of Destiny_.

The shears that the fucking, no-good, stupidly scruffy pirate was supposed to throw to the bottom of the ocean.

How are they now hidden in Emma’s shed? Regina knows how they are now hidden in Emma’s shed. He didn’t fucking do it. And sure, she might reluctantly agree on his assessment that they should save Emma at all costs – even if it means cutting her off from her destiny – but when Emma asks you to do something this important, you _do it_. Or you hide the evidence a lot better than in a stupid shed.

“We should show Ma,” Henry says as he dangles the shears around in front of her. “If we tell her he didn’t do it, maybe she’ll ask him to move out again.”

Regina loves her sweet boy and his furrowed brow and the way he still thinks so innocently, like he’s just ten again, but she knows it’s not so simple. “I don’t think so. Perhaps I should take the shears and confront Hook?” She knows she always says his name with such distain, but she simply can’t help it, and it never goes unnoticed by Henry.

Henry arches an eyebrow, such a mirror of her own face. “But why did the Evil Queen want us to find this if not to tell Ma?”

She doesn’t really have time to ponder this question a lot, because of course she knows why the Queen wanted them to find the shears (at least she thinks this is just another attempt at toying with Regina; dangling an opportunity in front of her and watching what she chooses to do with it), and of course the Queen has been watching this entire exchange from afar and she now announces her presence.

“Let’s see, my sweet boy,” she drawls as she enters the shed, and Henry stares at her with wide eyes. “Perhaps I just wanted to show you what kind of man your _birthmother_ is really introducing into your family, hm? Perhaps I wanted to show you that he cannot be trusted.”

Regina is not entirely sure what the Queen is getting at with this, because if she wants Regina to be miserable, surely letting her watch Emma play house with Hook is a great way to do that. Unless she has other plans now, of course, in which case Regina can only assume getting rid of Hook is a viable part of those. “We know the pirate cannot be trusted,” she argues, motioning towards the shears in Henry’s hand, “I’m surprised we didn’t find these before now.”

Henry furrows his brow as he looks between the two of them. “I just want Emma to be happy,” he murmurs, and Regina can see conflicted emotions running across his face, “Maybe this is her chance for that?”

She wants to tell him that it’s not, that she could offer Emma all kinds of happiness if the other woman wanted it. But she doesn’t say anything, she just stares at his sweet face and wants to kiss it better, like if he was five again and didn’t find it disgusting; she knows she can’t fix this for him though. It’s just another of the decisions he has to make on his way to growing up. She can’t choose for him what to do, however much she wants it.

The Evil Queen stalks closer, reaching a hand out to gingerly – almost affectionately – touch the side of Henry’s face, and he doesn’t turn away or flinch. He let’s her, watches her, waits. “How long before the pirate ruins this family, hm?” she whispers, and it’s almost soft, almost careful, and so is the look in her eyes. Regina knows that every part of her, even the evil and dark ones, cares for and loves Henry, and it’s showed so clearly in the Queen’s eyes as she looks at him.

“I won’t let him ruin this family.” Henry juts out his jaw with determination and Regina feels a swell of pride in her chest.

Dropping her hand, the Queen’s eyes shine with something akin to pride as well. “He doesn’t care about you or Emma,” she tells him. Her voice is soft like velvet, and Regina just watches her, tries to figure out what her angle is, why she’s even doing this. “He wants to cut off the part that makes Emma special, you see? He just wants her to be regular. He doesn’t want her to be the Saviour, he doesn’t appreciate every part of her.”

And that’s when Regina realises; the Queen doesn’t really want to hurt Emma either. She doesn’t want to kill her or torment her, because _the Queen cares_. The Evil Queen cares about Emma Swan, Saviour, just like she cares about Henry Mills, Son. Regina feels her heart thud madly in her chest as she accepts this fact. Every and each part of her loves Emma. Not just the good ones.

Henry nods his head and stares down at the shears once more. “I won’t let him cut off the part that makes Ma special,” he says, and then he lifts his head to stare intensely at Regina. “Right Mom?”

She reaches a hand out and caresses his cheek, his soft skin cool against her fingers as she touches him. “No my sweet prince,” she whispers, “We’ll take the shears to the pier and dispose of them.” She feels her heart clench at that, because she really wants them as an option in case they can’t figure out another way to save Emma, but she also knows that Emma does not want to (want to) use them, and that’s exactly why they should be at the bottom of the ocean. She’ll just have to live with the fact that she had them in her hands, able to use, and then got rid of them. Instead she’ll turn back to her books and figure out tremors and visions and swords and ways to get rid of Evil Queens.

Henry clenches his hand around the shears and says, “I’ll go right now. Let me do it, Mom.”

Regina nods and the Evil Queen does too, one and the same in regards to Henry, and he shoots them his trademark smile and runs off before they can say anything else or perhaps change their minds. There is a silence between the two of them after, left in the shed, and Regina wraps her arms around herself and turns to her other half.

“How’s Zelena?” is her question, because what else could she really ask. Now that she _knows_ – now that she realises – how the Queen feels about Emma, how can she just pretend like she doesn’t?

The Evil Queen fiddles with a tool from the table – Regina thinks it’s some kind of electric screwdriver – and doesn’t look at her. “She’s fine. The baby’s horrific though. Cries all night.”

Regina furrows her brow, “She’s a baby.”

Another silence emerges between them, and Regina tries to figure out what to say. It’s kind of peculiar however, trying to strike up a conversation with your evil half, so she just watches the Queen for a little while, glad that they’re not fighting or arguing or trying to tear each other apart at the moment. It’s almost comfortable, like she’s perhaps missed her other half a little bit, even if the urges to go dark are not missed at all.

“I wanted Henry to tell Emma about the shears,” the Evil Queen says finally, turning to Regina with eyes as slits and an unreadable smile. “I thought it would make the pirate go away. But Henry’s… resourceful. Sometimes I forget that.”

Regina nods, “Sometimes I forget that, too.”

The Evil Queen continues, “He’s not a little boy anymore.”

Leaning herself against the side of the table, Regina bites her lip. “He most certainly is not.” She sticks her hands into her pockets and tries to understand the look on the Queen’s face, tries to remember her own reasons for doing anything. Motivation was never easy to understand with her, unless it regarded Snow White’s heart in her hands. “So are you done trying to spill my secrets to Emma now?”

“I got bored,” the Queen replies, but there is clearly more to it than that.

Regina sighs. “Why don’t you try being honest with me? We used to be the same person as you so often like to tell me.” She doesn’t really know why she’s attempting a real conversation with the person who has cursed two of her best friends and tried to mess with her life for the past week, but something inside of her longs to know more, to understand better.

The Evil Queen glares at her. “And why do you care? You didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass or second thought when _you cut me off_.” She huffs and turns back to the table, now studying a plain hammer for all its worth.

“I care,” Regina replies softly as she takes a tentative step closer to her counterpart. “I was just tired of fighting you, you know? Tired of always being at war with myself when I’m trying to be good.” Maybe they should have had this conversation earlier, talked about this, because it actually feels pretty good to try to understand herself as she was.

The Evil Queen scoffs. “Oh boring, you mean?”

Regina swallows. “ _No_ ,” she lowly murmurs and steps even closer to the other woman. “Not boring. _Happy_.” And that’s all she really wants now, to be happy. But there’s always something going on; a split Evil Queen, visions or a new threat to Storybrooke. And she’s just tired of that; she just wants something else now, something she has never dared dream or hope for before.

Dropping the hammer to the table, the Queen turns to her with disbelief in her eyes. “With Emma and Henry,” she says, and there’s no malice in her voice, no threat or mock or anything. She’s just stating a fact, because she knows. She knows, and she feels it too, deep inside that scorched heart of hers.

“Yes,” Regina replies in a whisper, nodding her head softly and meeting her own eyes, “if I could.”

The Evil Queen turns her head away, not wanting to look at Regina, “It’s not possible,” she whispers. She shakes her head, more to herself than to Regina, it seems. “We could never have that.”

She leaves in a purple fog and Regina stares at the empty shed.

——-

Emma appears in front of her on her back porch, and Regina is honestly so used to the blonde’s ignorance of personal space and boundaries that she hardly looks up from her book when she does. She’s on her bench, a blanket wrapped around her to shield herself from the cold evening air and she has a glass of apple cider nestled in her free hand.

“Good evening,” she greets as she turns a page.

Taking a seat next to her on the bench, Emma says, “Mind telling me why I saw Henry not so sneakily paddle away from the pier to drop something in the ocean which unmistakingly looked like the Shears of Destiny earlier?”

Regina doesn’t look up from the page. “I don’t know anything about that,” she lies easily, inwardly cursing her son and his inaptitude for doing things without his blonde mother finding out.

“Hm,” Emma just replies and takes the glass of apple cider out of Regina’s hand. She takes a long sip of it, and it’s clear that she doesn’t believe Regina one little bit. “It’s a good cider.”

She flips another page, just for pretence, because she’s not reading a single word anymore. “I should think so, it’s my cider after all.”

Emma takes another sip. “So I should probably confront Hook about the shears, right?” she questions, and she sounds so uncertain and confused that Regina finally drops pretending and closes her book. “I mean, I trusted him to do something and he didn’t do it. And now he _lives_ with me. So.”

“So?” Regina questions and takes the glass out of Emma’s hand to take a sip herself. It sends a lovely surge of warmth through her body, or maybe it’s just because Emma is now sitting next to her, body pressed against hers. Regina honestly can’t tell anymore.

“So we shouldn’t lie to each other, right?” Emma asks her and turns to look at her. There’s very little space between their faces right now, they sit that close together, and Regina finds it very difficult not to stare at Emma’s pink lips or the way her nose crinkles slightly.

She wants to tell her that of course they shouldn’t; that Hook is a no-good pirate who doesn’t deserve her – she’d tried that before though, and it hadn’t helped one bit – but all she says is, “Probably not,” because that is the easiest thing to say and that way she doesn’t have to explain too much or mess things up.

Emma studies her for a few seconds. Her eyes trail between Regina’s own, pupils slightly blown, and the brunette swears that they slip to her lips more than just once, but that is probably just wishful thinking. The blonde tears her eyes away and clenches her fist. “I just wish-“ she cuts herself off, lips pressed together and jaw set.

Regina carefully pushes the book aside and reaches her spare hand to Emma’s. She uncurls the clenched fist, meeting very little resistance, and pulls it to her own lap to softly thread their fingers together. She thinks she hears Emma’s breath hitch and her cheeks pink, and she relishes the feeling of togetherness. She dreams of a life where this could be the norm; her and Emma together on the back porch, sharing a glass of cider. No Hook, no Evil Queen. Just them and Henry, and sometimes Snow and David and Baby Neal.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that was about on the pier the other day?” Emma finally whispers. Her eyes are locked on their intertwined fingers, and she seems so deep in thought. There’s that look on her face, the one Regina recognises on Henry, brow furrowed in contemplation, and she loves them both even more for the ways they are alike.

Regina stares at their fingers too, and she feels this odd contentment in her body, like maybe it’s not so scary after all, and their fingers sort of fit together like _they fit together_. But then she looks up at Emma, Emma who has a pirate and a house and visions of her death, and she thinks about options, and about having them, and even if Snow says Emma would be glad, Regina is just not sure. And perhaps Emma even knows, because she has that look on her face, like she does, like she has finally connected the dots and is seeing what has been evident in front of her eyes this entire time. So Regina whispers, “I think you already know,” and meets Emma’s eyes when the blonde turns to look at her.

Emma’s lips fall open in a small ‘o’ and her fingers tighten around Regina’s. “Oh,” she just whispers, and her eyes flicker back to Regina’s lips – and this time the brunette is certain of that – before she adds, “why didn’t you say something?”

She squeezes Emma’s fingers back and says, “I didn’t think it was an option.” And it’s honest, so honest in a way she rarely is, because she is baring herself, fears and doubts and all, and it’s not safe. But it’s just Emma, and Emma is there, right next to her, and she doesn’t pull away at all.

“Options are nice,” Emma says instead, and she tucks Regina closer, let’s the shorter woman rest her head on her shoulder, and places her own head on top of Regina’s with a sigh.

Regina feels her heart clench uncomfortably in her chest. “Yeah?” she hoarsely murmurs, and she feels overwhelmed with happiness and sadness at once. Perhaps options are good, but they’re probably too late now. She can’t quell the feelings inside of her.

“Yeah.” Emma confirms, and she tucks Regina even closer, and they sit like that, for a very long time. They don’t say anything, because they don’t need to, and there’s no words left to utter, and so they sit there, under one blanket, sharing one glass of apple cider and one son, and Regina dares to hope that everything will work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting on the first part! I hope you enjoyed this part too – the next part will put an exciting end to this little fic, so stay tuned for that!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina has to bring back a foolish Emma, and our story comes to an exciting end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Small mentions of Hook in this chapter.

 

So even though Regina feels like she actually connected with the Queen inside the shed, the Queen feels a bit differently. Apparently. At least it appears so, because she chooses to grant _Emma’s wish_ of having never been the Saviour ( _stupid Emma, you don’t really wish that_ , Regina grumpily thinks to herself) and sends Emma away to someplace – some kind or wish verse or alternate reality, Regina suspects – and Hook and Charming and Jasmine (because why not Jasmine) are arguing, and Regina is just really tired.

She’s tired of Evil Queens, sleeping Snows, disappeared Saviours and a helpless pirate who just broods and broods and broods. Mostly, she’s tired of feeling split, like some part of her is missing, and if the Evil Queen hadn’t been so damn receptive the other day in the shed, Regina might not have caught the feeling at all. But the Queen’s _mad_ , actually, positively furious with her. And she loves Henry and Emma, and hates Regina for splitting them in two.

Right now, she’s mostly tired of having to fix everyone’s messes – including her own – because who else is going to do it.

“How can you live with someone and not even know their deepest secrets?” Charming scolds Hook, and if the situation hadn’t been this dire, Regina may have vocally agreed with him. How can Hook _not know_ what Emma really wishes? Regina knows for goodness sake! She knows that Emma is tired of being the Saviour and of everyone expecting everything of her all the time. It isn’t like it is very hard to tell if one just makes an effort and knows Emma a _little bit_.

Regina steps in between the two fighting males and says, “It doesn’t matter now, _you idiots_. We won’t get Emma back by placing blame – although rightfully so,” she adds with a certain look up at the one-handed pirate, “We need to make a plan. Where could she have sent her?”

But Charming starts going off at Hook again, and Jasmine moans about Aladdin, and is everyone here really so infuriatingly incompetent that Regina _misses_ Snow White and her everlasting optimism? The Queen is obviously still trying to tear them apart and with Snow sleeping and Emma gone, it’s easier than ever to get the two bumbling idiots fighting. They’re doing exactly what she wants, and Regina is tired of this bullshit, so she leaves them be and makes her way to her office which, of course, the Queen has been occupying, because why wouldn’t she?

“I see you’re feeling right at home in my office. Enjoy it while it lasts,” Regina greets her as she stalks through the door. The Queen is sitting leisurely in her office chair, crossed legs resting on the desk, and Aladdin stands next to her, obediently awaiting her next wish. He has the lamp in his hands, and Regina is not sure what her plan is when she enters, but something must be done.

She cannot – she will not – live in a world where Emma Swan is not, and she _knows_ that if Emma had a choice she wouldn’t want to be without Henry and her parents either. Regina is not sure where Emma is, if she’s even conscious of her true self wherever that is, but if Prince Idiot and Captain Stupid are not going to do anything, Regina really is the only one who can get her back. And she _will_ get her back.

The Evil Queen has a wide smile on her red lips and she says, “How’s life going without your _precious_ Emma Swan, hm? Having fun yet?”

Regina narrows her eyes. “Where did she go?”

Shrugging, the Queen swings her legs onto the floor and leans her elbows on the desk. “Don’t know, don’t care.” She runs her tongue across her teeth. “Sorry Reggie, I know you care deeply for her, but really, who am I to deny her her heart’s deepest desire?”

“She didn’t mean that,” Regina replies and steps closer, eyeing Aladdin. “And why would you even dispose of her? You care about her too.” It’s so clear to Regina, it has been since their time in the shed, and she’s still trying to figure out what her other half really wants, if she even knows it, but it just doesn’t make any sense.

The Evil Queen stiffens, smile faltering as she says, “No, I don’t. You do. Which is why I chose to dispose of her. I don’t want _you to be happy_.”

Regina feels like things are starting to make a bit more sense, even if the edges are fuzzy and hard to grasp. “You want me to be miserable? Why?” She lets the question hang in the air between them as she studies the face of the Evil Queen; a familiar face, her own one, though harder and more worn, skin hidden beneath powder and eyes rimmed with black. She used to see this face when she looked in the mirror, but now that face is in the past, and she really wishes that it was still there and not sitting right in front of her.

But she sees something else, too. Something different, something more than fury in those familiar eyes; not just years of hurt hidden beneath anger and determination, but… disappointment too. Disappointment in… her? Regina’s breath hitches in her throat. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” she whispers as she steps closer, and the Queen narrows her eyes, glares at her and frowns. “You’re hurt that I split us, yeah? You’re upset that I… rejected you – _me_ – that… part of me.”

The Queen glares at her, stares, and Regina knows that she’s right, that she’s finally figured out what this is all about. “Be quiet,” she hisses, and her brown eyes appear almost black as she stands from the chair and hovers above Regina, taller in her high heels.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” she whispers and looks up at her counterpart. She’s not scared of her, not right now, because she feels for her; remembers the pain of rejection she felt as a child of Cora. Remembers how hurt she used to feel whenever anybody disregarded her. How could she not have expected this? The Queen _is_ her, like she has so often pointed out to Regina since her arrival in Storybrooke. They’re the same person, at least they used to be, so their emotions, their feelings, are one in the same. And the Queen is hurt, because not even Regina _wants_ her and that has to be the biggest rejection of her life. “We’re the same, you and I. We’re essentially still the same person and you’re hurt because I wrote you off.”

The Evil Queen snaps, “No. We’re not the same, _Mayor Mills_.” She shakes her head, and she’s so busy eying down Regina with her most evil glare that she doesn’t notice how Aladdin steps even farther away from her. “I’m the _Evil Queen_. You’re a pathetic mayor in a small town. There’s not an evil bone left in your body.”

Regina doesn’t let her vain attempt at pettiness infuriate her. She fights back, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. An idea is forming in her mind, at it’s her own words that make the pieces fit. “We _are_ the same,” she confirms and reaches a hand out to pick the lamp out of Aladdin’s hands. “Which means that… this genie is at my command too.” She pauses as she watches the Queen’s eyes go wide and her lips part. “Am I right?”

Turning desperately to look at Aladdin, the Queen grasps at straws. “No!” she hisses, but his smirk tells them otherwise. “No, that wish is _mine_!”

Running her finger over the gold of the old lamp, Regina locks her eyes to the Queen’s. “I’m going to fix this,” she says, and she’s talking about more than just Emma’s wish; she talks about her split with the Queen, Emma’s visions and tremors, the Queen’s actions in Storybrooke and everything that has gone wrong, and she hopes the Queen understands this. “Everything. I promise,” she softly adds, before she turns to Aladdin and says, “I wish to be taken to the place where Emma Swan is.” She constructs the wish carefully, making sure that nothing can be misinterpreted. It would be foolish to say something wrong and have the whole thing backfire and make it even worse.

Aladdin offers a smirk and says, “Your wish is my command.”

The Evil Queen screams and Regina feels the world shift.

———-

She emerges in a forest that she immediately recognises. It’s the place she used to call home before her three decades in Storybrooke. The Enchanted Forest. She’s still dressed in her jacket and her boots, every bit the mayor of Storybrooke. But she’s here. In fairytale land. Which means that Emma is here too.

Somewhere.

Regina hears a carriage moving at full speed trough the forest, but she’s not foolish enough to intercept it. She needs – she needs a plan, she needs to _think_. If Emma is here, in the Enchanted Forest, because her wish of having never been the Savour came true, the only logical explanation is that Regina herself never managed to cast the curse (which is just rubbish, because her plan was foolproof and well-executed, thank you very much) thus leaving Snow and Charming to have their baby _here_. Their beautiful Princess Emma of the White Kingdom.

Perhaps Regina is dead in this universe, although she finds that unlikely. Snow could never do that, no matter what their war escalated to. Perhaps she’s imprisoned for life or maybe even exiled? It doesn’t even matter.

But if all this is the case and Regina is right, Emma will be a princess and how is she going to find her? She stops for a second and tries to imagine Emma as a princess. For some reason she has a hard time placing crass, leather-wearing, pastry-loving Emma Swan as a mere princess, as someone who was raised the way Snow White was; meek and submissive and without a fighting bone in her body.

She leans herself against a tree and muses things over. This place isn’t _real_ which means that everyone here – except Emma – isn’t real either. They’re all fake wish-people, but no one knows that. She’d really hate it if she had to kill somebody – even a fake wish-person – to get Emma back, but she has to remind herself that getting her back is the _only_ option.

Emma. Her sweet, idiotic, completely _foolish_ Emma who says wishes she doesn’t mean because she’s confused right now, a little lost and on the wrong track. Regina will fix _everything_ , she will, and that’s that.

She hears some bustling in the bushes and freezes against a tree. Someone is getting closer —- what should she do? Should she hide? Disguise herself? For some reason she thinks it’s important that she meets Emma as herself if she’s ever going to wake her up, but everybody else? Regina ducks behind the trunk of a tree as someone comes closer, and that someone is… singing?

She peeks around the trunk and holds her breath. She doesn’t know what she thinks she’s going to see – dwarfs, wolves, Granny with her crossbow – but she definitely knows that she had not imagined seeing this: Emma, dressed in white, flowers in her hair and singing to birds.

What has the world come to?

Regina steps around the tree before she can form a plan in her mind, not able to stop herself from gaping at the sight before her. “Emma?” She can’t believe this. That… singing… insipid… princess… is her Emma? No. Not _her_ Emma. This is as far away from her Emma as it could be.

Emma the Princess freezes. Haltering in her steps she stops, basket hanging from her arm and green eyes wide. “You,” she whispers, and Regina knows instantly that Emma recognises her face, even like this.

Regina takes a careful step closer. “Emma,” she tries again.

“Don’t come near me!” Emma shrieks, and Regina feels frustration and fear seep into her every bone. If this is really what Emma is like sans saviourism, Regina is really glad that she cast the Dark Curse after all. “My guard is nearby and if I scream, she comes.”

Regina tries once more, knows that she has to proceed carefully if Emma is really like _this_. “Emma, don’t scream,” she says softly, reaches a hand out and stills it. “I’m not who you think I am…” she pauses, “I’m not the Evil Queen from this land, not the one you know, I’m from an… an alternate reality so to speak.”

Emma regards her carefully, steps a little bit closer and drops her basket to the ground. “You look different,” she states, her eyes trailing over Regina’s form; staring at her shorter hair, down her jacket and towards her sensible high-heeled boots. The Evil Queen would have never dressed like this, and Emma must be aware of that.

Stepping closer as well, Regina nods her head. “Yes. In this reality where I’m from, Emma, we’re actually…” she pauses, not sure what to call them or how to explain what they mean to each other. Mostly because they haven’t defined it themselves, but also because no words would even come close in Regina’s mind. “We actually quite close,” she finishes.

With a tentative nod, Emma takes another step forward. Her long blonde tresses are blowing slightly in the wind, and even though Princess Emma of the White Kingdom looks very different from Saviour Emma of Storybrooke, Regina finds her beautiful. She imagines Emma dressed something like this on a future wedding day, with curls in her hair and sensible boots beneath her dress. It’s not the Emma that Regina prefers, the Emma she loves fiercely, but it’s a part of her.

“Close,” Emma tastes the word, lips curling slightly at the sides of her mouth, “what do you mean _close_?”

Regina doesn’t know how to even explain this, because she does not want to scare Emma away or start screaming for her guard. Besides, it’s complicated beyond measure. “We … we’re friends,” she starts by saying, “allies. And—- we actually share custody of a son in that realm.”

Emma’s brow furrows and Regina is reminded of Henry, whom she starts missing instantly. He’s back in Storybrooke with a cursed grandmother and with only half of a mother there to guide him. She has to get herself and Emma back, and it has to be soon. “A son?” Her eyes are wide and she tilts her head to the side. “What kind of son?”

She’s not sure why Emma is focusing so much on this part, but if it gets her to stay and talk while Regina makes up a plan, she’ll take it. “His name is Henry,” she quickly explains, and something recognisable appears briefly on Emma’s face. “He’s a teenager. He’s got his first girlfriend. Her name’s Violet, and I’m not,” she pauses, licks her lips and offers a smile at Emma, “I’m not handling it so well. You try to appease me.”

“We have a son named Henry?” There’s something in Emma’s eyes as she says this, and Regina nods encouragingly. “But why are you here then? If you have this other realm you must have another Emma, so…” she trails her eyes back and forth and frowns. “So did you get here by accident?”

Regina shakes her head and takes another step closer to Emma. She’s near her now, if she reaches out she’ll be able to touch her, but she’s not going to risk that, not yet. “I don’t, because… _you’re_ her.” Regina knows she’s running out of time, that at any moment Emma can decide to call for her guard or the guard can simply show up, so she has to move faster than this. Besides, she also needs a way home whenever she’s woken Emma, and that’s another hurdle they’ll have to face, hopefully together. “This realm, Emma, it’s, it’s not _real_. You made a wish and someone evil granted it to you, so I’m here to bring you back to Storybrooke.”

Emma’s eyes shoot up and meet hers instantly at that. “Storybrooke? What do you know of a place called Storybrooke?”

Regina senses something at that, a shift in the air between them. If Emma knows Storybrooke, it means that her Emma is perhaps not as deeply buried as Regina had first feared. “It’s where we live, Emma. Together.”

The blonde princess steps tentatively closer, a finger brushing feather-light across the back of Regina’s hand. “I’ve seen it. In my dreams. Storybrooke.”

That familiar feeling of hope grows within her then, something she doesn’t dare herself to feel very often, but when it comes to _Emma_ and _hope_ it has always been so easy. “So you know it must be true, right?” she whispers and her brown eyes lock firmly onto Emma’s. She tries to convey everything she feels within that gaze as she remembers promises and hope whispered at night at sea. Emma has to remember, she has to at least _know_ it somewhere inside. “I’d never lie to you, Emma. And you know I’m telling the truth, hm? Because you have a superpower, and you _always know_ when I’m lying.”

Emma watches her then, studies her carefully, lets her green eyes grace every inch of Regina’s face, and Regina lets her. She lets the blonde princess take her time, whatever she needs, and Regina stands still, schools her features and waits. “You’re not lying,” she finally whispers, a tentative smile making its way onto her face.

“I’m not,” Regina confirms and just smiles at her.

The silence between them is interrupted by a familiar shout through the forest, “Princess Emma!?” It’s Mulan’s voice, Regina is sure of it, and at least she knows that this realm’s Queen Snow and Prince Charming have offered their darling daughter the best protection around. “Where are you? We should be heading back to the castle soon!”

Emma’s eyes grow wide, and unfortunately Regina knows that _because_ Snow and Charming have offered Emma the best protection around, her quest has just been made even more difficult, so she grabs Emma’s hand and squeezes it tightly. “Do you trust me?” She knows it’s a long shot, because why should Emma believe in her, but there’s something between them, something that even the princess must feel even though she’s not Emma right now, and Regina wants to believe that it’ll be enough.

“I’m not sure,” Emma whispers, but she doesn’t retract her hand.

Regina stares at her, firmly. “If even a little part of you wants to believe what I’m saying to be true, you’ll let me transport you with me to the Queen’s old castle, so we can figure this out.” She pauses, her fingers hot on Emma’s skin, “What do you say?”

Mulan’s voice is heard again, this time more firm. “Princess Emma!?”

“Let’s do it,” Emma breathes, and Regina envelopes them both in purple smoke instantly.

———

She says _fight me_ and _come on, Emma!_ and _I know you’re in there_ and _push back, push back, for goodness sake!_ , but nothing happens.

Emma just stands there and looks at her, shielding herself behind armours or pillars, jumping to the right, to the left, ducking beneath a table to avoid Regina’s fireballs or her blows of magic, and nothing comes out of it. Regina really wants to believe that this is how she gets Emma to discover her true self; that Princess Emma has been shielded from any kind of evil her entire life and therefore does not know what she’s capable of, doesn’t know her True Love Magic, that Regina just needs to force it out of her.

But it’s really difficult to force something out of someone who does not even try a little bit to fight back. She just ducks away, lets Regina devour her, and if she’d really wanted to hurt Emma with her magic, the other woman would have been hit with the first fireball she’d conjured. Sometimes Regina thinks that she sees something in Emma’s eyes though, she thinks she sees determination, fire, but it never amounts to anything. Regina knows that there’s probably a search party making its way throughout the Enchanted Forest already, looking for their missing princess, so they have to work quick, they haven’t got much time.

“Emma please just – throw something at me,” Regina says. She’s holding a fireball in one hand, trying to determine where to throw it next. Emma is backed into a corner right now, watching Regina with wide eyes. “You have magic, you have to believe in me,” she lets the fire fizzle out and takes a step closer to Emma, “but more importantly you _have_ to believe in yourself.”

Emma groans in frustration – a brief insight into the Emma Swan she misses desperately right now – and says, “Are you sure I have magic? Like if I did, don’t you think I’d just be able to do it by now?”

Regina sighs. “ _You have magic, Emma_. You have so much magic that you conjured up a bridge, fought a Snow Queen with me and knows how to transport yourself anywhere.” She looks seriously at the blonde woman and continues as she steps closer, “Magic is emotion, Emma, I’ve taught you that so many times and one thing’s for certain – you always have a lot of emotions. You can do this, you just have to discover that you can.”

Staring down at her hand, Emma makes a fist. Her hand is shaking and she looks at it with determination, but after a few seconds she lets go – unclenches her hand and sighs. “ _It’s not working_!”

Regina closes the last remaining space between them and carefully takes Emma’s hand. “It will work, I’m sure this is the way to go,” she murmurs. It feels so good to have Emma’s hand in hers like this, it’s not her Emma, not this singing, weak princess, but it’s a part of her, and Regina relishes whatever she can. She misses Emma, desperately, and she wishes she could see her sheepish smile or scold her for eating too many bear claws. She just wants her back, she just wants-

“My hand’s tingling,” Emma whispers, her breath ghosts across Regina’s cheek, where their heads are bent together, looking at their joined hands. Regina looks up immediately, almost bumping her forehead against Emma’s chin. “It’s weird,” Emma adds, and their eyes are locked, and Regina wants to tilt her head back and press her lips to Emma’s. She wants her Emma. The last conversation they had was so honest and true, and Regina is desperate for more of that, desperate for a future and a time where she and Emma might have more of those conversations. Where there is no pirate and no visions, only a supportive son and supportive parents and Regina with her entire family.

Her hand tingles too, like it so often does whenever it touches Emma, but she suspects that Emma is not familiar with this feeling, not here. It should tell her something about them, something honest and true, but she doesn’t have time to analyse any of that right now, only time to fix this. “Feel your emotions,” she hoarsely murmurs as she presses her spare hand to Emma’s chest, laying it just above her heart. “Whatever’s making you tingle,” she swallows loudly, because she knows what she wishes is making Emma tingle, but she can’t get her hopes up, not again. When they get back to Storybrooke, Emma is back to living with Captain Guyliner and Regina is back to being miserable. “…locate it. Use it.”

Emma screws her eyes shut and softly pulls her hand from Regina’s grasp. Her jaw is set, her breath uneven, but she tries. Regina looks at her hand and when a tiny little flame appears, she nudges Emma slightly and the blonde opens her eyes with a surprised gasp. But she’s still Princess Emma. Still not the one Regina needs.

——-

“You were telling the truth,” Emma whispers later, when they both rest on Regina’s old bed, backs pressed against the headboard and the sun setting outside the windows. “I, I wanted what you said to be true,” Emma adds, when Regina turns to her with an arched eyebrow and questions in her eyes, “I mean… It sounded so cool, you know? A place called Storybrooke where I’m awesome and tough and I just wanted it to be true so much that I decided to go with you, even if I didn’t believe you.”

Regina tucks her head onto Emma’s shoulder and hums in contentment, “I’m glad you decided to come. I know you don’t remember it, but I’ll make sure you will.” she promises easily. She knows she’ll find a way, she just doesn’t know how yet, but she’s started to at least think about how to get home – Rumpelstiltskin must be somewhere in this wish verse as well, and when she has the real Emma back, they’ll find him together and coerce him into helping them find a way home. It’s a solid plan, and Regina feels good about it. Now though, her sole focus has to be Emma.

She feels Emma’s tentative hand on her shoulder, familiar, yet different, as it strokes back and forth and Emma whispers, “I care a lot for you, don’t I? In the other world,” she clarifies, and her voice is husky and sleep-ridden; she sounds so tired. “And you care for me, too.”

Regina tilts her head back and stares up at those familiar green eyes. She almost seems like her Emma right now, in this fading light, with her hair pulled back and the white dress discarded in favour of a t-shirt and shorts that Regina conjured up for her; Emma had been so pleased to hear that that was her usual sleeping attire in this other world. She feels close to her like this; like _Emma and Regina_ and a night at the Jolly Roger. Emma looks beautiful and Regina just wants to bury herself in her, dive in and let go. If they can’t find a way back – and she doesn’t want to even _think_ about that because _Henry_ – she thinks she could be happy right here, if Emma just stayed with her. Even this insipid lesser version of her. If Regina can have any Emma, any version, she’ll gladly take it.

“Regina?” Emma questions, and it seems like her face is somehow even closer to Regina’s now.

“I do,” Regina confirms quickly as she tries to force herself to tear her eyes away from Emma’s lips. Those pink, delicious, always slightly chapped lips that Regina dreams about kissing more often than she should. “Emma. I… I care about you so much. That’s why I’m here.”

Emma’s lips curl up into a little smile and her green eyes shimmer. “You came here,” she murmurs, and her hand is hot, even through the fabric of Regina’s conjured up pyjamas. “No one else came to find me, but… you did.”

It’s true. No one else has appeared in this realm, not as far as Regina knows. No Hook, no Charming. Not even Henry, but she’d be mad at him if he did. “I couldn’t imagine living in a world where you were not,” Regina honestly whispers. She’s never been good at this; feelings, emotions. She’s always been good at having them, feeling them deeply, but never at talking about them, revealing them. It feels safe right now though, tucked in fake Emma’s embrace, in her old castle, not knowing when she’ll get back home.

_Home_. The town called Storybrooke is home. Not this castle in the Enchanted Forest, but Storybrooke with Emma and Henry. _Home_.

A pale finger trails across Regina’s jaw and it makes her shiver. It strokes her cheek, brushes across her lips, and she can’t hide the way she gasps almost breathlessly and closes her eyes. _Emma_. She feels everything and nothing at once. This isn’t her Emma, not really, yet part of her must be in there somewhere, making her do these things; making her trust Regina even when she shouldn’t, and she made a little _flame_ , and it’s Emma. _Emma_. Em-ma.

“Are we…” Emma trails off, her breath hitching and finger still touching Regina’s face. “Are we in love?” she finally whispers, and Regina thinks she sees something like hope in her eyes.

Regina wants to say yes, but she also wants to be honest. She screws her eyes shut for a second, contemplates, and Emma’s fingers are hot, hot, hot on her skin, and she dreams of kisses shared, names whispered, fingers clutched; she dreams of Emma’s face in the faint moonlight and the way she had kissed Regina as she buried her fingers in her, and everything, everything feels too hot, yet too cold all at once. “I don’t know how you feel,” Regina whispers next as she opens her eyes and finds that Emma is still as close as she was before, “but I _love you_. I just never was good at telling you that.”

Emma’s lips form an even bigger smile and her hand trails across Regina’s jaw, cupping the back of her neck. “I think I love you,” she settles for, and Regina is almost embarrassed about the way her heart seems to flutter at those five words. “I mean,” Emma continues, as her fingers dig into her skin, “how could I not?”

“Even if I tell you that you know _all I’ve done_ , that…” she furrows her brow, licks her lips and continues, “that some of the horrors you know from this wish verse are probably true. That it’s in the past, but that… that it’s all true.”

Shaking her head, fond, Emma says, “I think,” she pauses, “that I love you _because_ of all that.”

And before Regina has any idea of what’s happening, before she can examine those words, think about what they might mean in the greater scheme of things, Princess Emma does something that Regina would have never thought she was capable of; something worthy of Saviour Emma. She tugs Regina closer and presses their lips together. The feeling inside Regina’s chest is instantaneous; her heart thuds madly against her chest, shivers erupt on her arms. Her entire body feels warm, like a hot blanket put upon her, except this isn’t a blanket, it’s Emma, and she’s— _she’s kissing Emma_.

Something feels different though; like a surge, a blow of wind that sweeps across the realm in ripples like when you throw a pebble into a lake. It overtakes Regina’s entire body, and all she can feel is _Emma_ and… _magic_. There’s purple and white all around them, consuming them in a fog so thick that Regina feels herself choke for a second; she feels herself mend, ache, a hole fills itself inside her chest.

“Regina,” Emma murmurs against her lips, and when Regina opens her eyes and pulls away from the other woman’s lips, she’s not staring at Princess Emma anymore. She’s staring at Emma. _Emma_. Em-ma.

She’s also not sitting in her old bed in her old castle in the Enchanted Forest. She’s sitting on her bench on her back porch in Storybrooke.

_Home_.

She can hardly believe it. “Emma,” she murmurs, and for a second she’s afraid that Emma is going to push her away or pull back, but then she _realises_. They’re back. Emma’s back. And they kissed. Which in fairytale land can only mean one thing. “True Love’s Kiss,” she quacks, eyes wide as they gaze up at Emma.

The blonde woman has the goofiest, silliest smile on her face, and her blunt nails scrape against the nape of Regina’s neck. “True Love’s Kiss,” she confirms in a whisper, and she pulls Regina closer, rests their foreheads together. “ _Of course_ you’re my True Love,” she breathes, “you… Regina Mills. Not anyone else.”

“You, Emma Swan,” she says, and she feels everything deeply inside of her, feels years of pain and longing mend together, wrap itself around her, settle. She feels different, almost accurately so, like she’s whole, healed. Like she’s not just Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke, but she’s all of her, Queen and everything, because Emma, God _Emma_ , she loves and accepts all of her, and she always has, always.

Emma chuckles breathlessly, “Fake Princess Emma admitted what I’ve been too scared to do all these years, and she just… she just fixed it.”

Regina let’s her hands travel all the way into Emma’s hair, and her fingers curl, desperate for something to hold onto. “Does this mean-” she doesn’t know what she’s going to say, if she even wants the truth, and Emma just smiles goofily at her, green eyes filled with mirth.

“You came for me,” she says, and it’s a statement, the truth, because it was what Regina had done. She had come for her. “You’re the only one who did.”

Rolling her eyes – in fondness, always in fondness – Regina says, “Well, I couldn’t very well let you stay there, could I?”

Emma chuckles throatily, “You love me,” she says with a teasing lilt to her voice. It’s not judgmental, hurtful or even spiteful. It’s true, it’s fond and it’s a statement, because Regina does. She loves Emma, and it feels like she’s finally ready to accept that fully, let it overtake her, wrap around her, like a good warm blanket.

“I have,” Regina whispers, her nose brushing slightly against Emma’s, “for a very long time.”

“I didn’t think,” Emma stops herself, pauses, and swallows loudly, “I hoped. But when you never said…” She stares firmly into Regina’s eyes and finishes, “I love you, too.” And it doesn’t matter what happened after Neverland, not really. Hook and Robin aren’t important, because they’ll figure it out. Regina and Emma.

Regina presses her lips against Emma’s in another chaste kiss, savouring the feeling of the blonde beneath her touch. She pulls back again, afraid that if she lets go, it might all slip through her fingers. “It’s hardly important right now,” she confirms.

Emma’s brow furrows. “Hey,” she says next and pulls back quickly, “what else do you think we just fixed with True Love’s Kiss?”

——-

They appear in the middle of the Charming loft to find a groggy Snow huddled in blankets on the bed, Charming making coffee in the small kitchen, and Henry pulling silly faces at the baby in Belle’s arms. Regina does a double-take at that. _The baby in Belle’s arms_?

“Emma!” David greets them and drops the cup he is holding onto the counter. “You’re back.” He pauses, notices the way that Emma’s hand is firmly locked inside Regina’s, before he turns to Snow. “The curse broke.”

_The curse broke_. Regina pauses, thinks. The curse broke. How did the curse break? She lets go of Emma’s hand as the blonde woman crosses the room to greet her mother, and Regina takes a seat next to Belle on the couch and stares at the baby there. Gideon. The baby that the Blue Fairy took away to hide from Rumpelstiltskin, yet there it is. “What’s going on?” she whispers and stares fondly at her own son, her smart and handsome young teenager who grins widely at her.

Belle says, “Gideon appeared in Rumpel’s shop. Out of nowhere. And he brought him here to me. I think his fate might have been changed or something.” She pauses and looks up at Regina; her eyes are spilling over with happy tears, and Regina thinks she deserves to have her child with her, no matter what it might mean. “We don’t know what happened, but it doesn’t matter, does it?” She changes her voice at the end as she coos down at her son, “No it doesn’t, does it, Gideon?”

Henry strokes a hand across Regina’s knee. “Where did you go?”

Regina turns on the couch and looks at Emma, her beautiful, Saviour Emma, who’s leaning against the kitchen counter and nursing a cup of coffee. Snow is sitting at the table now, smiling brightly at Regina, and Charming is still in the kitchen, confusion marring his face. Regina can’t hide the grin on her face as she says, “Emma?” and expects the other woman to explain everything.

“Regina came to find me,” she explains and takes a long gulp of the coffee in her cup, “You used a wish, right?” She turns to Regina who nods in agreement, “I was stuck in this… wish verse, I guess, and Regina was determined to wake me up. So uh, she fought real hard for that.” She grins goofily to herself in the end, the cup barely hiding the nature of her smile from her parents.

Snow smiles knowingly, like she believes that she knows what has occurred in this wish verse. “And how did you turn back? How did all of this happen?” She looks from Emma to Regina, and Regina arches her eyebrow in faint recognition of Snow’s silent question; all at once telling her, thanking her, trusting her. And it _feels_ good. It feels like family and love and a home.

Emma places the cup back on the counter and plainly says, “True Love’s Kiss.”

David drops the coffee pot and walks around the counter to stare at Emma. “But… Hook didn’t leave here. He’s been-” he stops himself, not sure what to say. And only then does it occur to Regina that Hook is nowhere in sight. They’re going to have to deal with him later.

“Brooding unhelpfully,” Henry cheekily chirps from the couch. He stares at Regina too, like he knows exactly who Emma had shared True Love’s Kiss with. Her son has always been way too smart for his own good.

“Henry,” David scolds mildly, before continuing, looking at Emma instead as Henry just keeps grinning. “I mean. Was there another Hook in your wish verse or something?”

“Nope,” Emma lightly says and places the cup on the table. “Just Regina,” she adds, and she strides across the floor in all her glory; red leather jacket, blonde tresses hanging and tight jeans and boots. She bends over, presses a kiss to Regina’s lips – which she meets happily, savouring all of the affection that she receives from the blonde, although not enough, never enough – and they only part when they hear Henry whooping excitedly.

David scratches his cheek, “I’m confused,” he says, and Emma sits herself on the arm of the couch, a loving hand wrapped around Regina’s knee. David might be confused, but Regina lets herself sag slightly against Emma’s side and breathes in, thankful, for getting Emma back, for waking her up, for feeling like herself again for the first time since New York and the serum and the rash decisions.

Snow smiles and locks her eyes firmly with Regina’s, “I’m not,” she says, before her eyes glide towards her husband and she adds, “Options are nice.”

“So I guess your True Love fixed everything?” Henry says, and of course he has the story book with him, and he pulls it out from under the couch and flips it open. He leafs through the pages, only stopping when he comes to the last picture in there; a picture of all of them, right in this moment, in the Charming loft. He looks up. “How are your tremors, Ma?”

Emma stares down at her hand, makes a fist and frowns. “I’m not sure,” she says, looking up to meet Henry’s eyes, “we’ll have to see about that.”

Henry smiles knowingly, “And Mom?” he continues, raises an eyebrow and turns to look at Regina instead; Regina who’s just been sitting there, watching everything – her family – around her and feeling… like everything may finally work out. _Like maybe I fixed everything_. “How’s… the Evil Queen?”

David interjects before Regina has time to answer. “We haven’t seen her all day. Why did she suddenly lift the sleeping curse?” He says the last part in Regina’s direction, and she thinks that maybe she’ll have to listen to a fatherly speech from him at some point, about not breaking his daughter’s heart, but she doesn’t care, not when he’s still there, not pushing her away or telling her to go because she shared True Love’s Kiss with his only daughter and apparently broke a curse by the act alone. Who would have thought – her, Regina Mills, sharing True Love with anyone. And especially Emma Swan.

Regina clutches Emma’s hand to hers and leans closer, not yet ready to let go in case it all disappears around her and it has all been a feverish dream of hers, or perhaps another wish verse. This time of her own creation, trapped inside her dreams of a far-off future. She says, confidently. “I don’t think… we have to worry about her anymore.” She smiles up at Emma, green eyes meeting hers, and continues, “I think she’s back where she belongs.”

Emma places a tentative hand on Regina’s chest, pats it lightly and whispers, “You mean…”

“Yes,” Regina confirms, nods her head and tangles her fingers in Emma’s hair, “ _back where she belongs._ ”

“I’m glad,” Emma huskily breathes and bends her head to kiss Regina’s forehead, “I like you best exactly like you.” She moves her lips to Regina’s lips and kisses her, not chaste at all, and Regina breathes in through her nose; breathes in Emma, love, happiness. Breathes in the feeling of fixed situations, of family, of a future that perhaps isn’t so gloom after all.

_Perhaps we can really have this_ , a voice inside of her says, and is reminds her distantly of conversations with herself in Emma’s shed, of hope not hoped, wishes not wished, and she knows, she knows, that it is all right now. That whatever remains, they can fix, that Emma will leave the rum-soaked pirate and be hers. Like kisses at sea, and trips to Neverland. Like promises and whispers, and names cried in a small cabin. Like love. Like love.

“I love you,” Emma murmurs, pulls back slightly and ignores everyone inside of the loft in favour of just Regina, “all of you.”

“I think,” Regina whispers back, fingers still tangled in blonde tresses, and breath still uneven from soaring kisses, “I love all of me, too.”

Like love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments and support on this fic! Naturally, it came to be when I was rewatching these episodes a little while ago and was thoroughly unsatisfied with the way the show handled this entire story-line. This is my way of sort of… making an attempt at changing that a little bit, even if it’s only three chapters.
> 
> I have another multi-chaptered fic in the works that I’m plotting out at the moment, and it shouldn’t be long before first chapter is up!
> 
> You can find me at twitter at stefaniaholubko and tumblr at stefania-holubko if you want to spring ideas at me or simply just chat!

**Author's Note:**

> So please let me know what you think? There’ll be more Swanqueen interactions in the other parts, though it obviously mostly deals with Regina’s emotions towards Emma and the fact that the Evil Queen can mess with that. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: stefania-holubko and twitter: stefaniaholubko


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